meat and potatoes


Wow, I never realized just how hideous the standard American diet is. But since I’ve returned from London, I’ve just eaten so horribly. Part of that is me, of course; I’ve never been one to back away from dessert (and I didn’t in London). And of course, I’m not walking nearly as much as I did over there. But the real culprit: my dad’s archaic idea that virtually every meal needs some sort of heavy meat. In all seriousness, he cooks meat at least four times a week (and that does not include leftovers). In any given week, I’m eating ribs, lamb chops, pork, and some kind of roast beef. Now I love meat (or at least I used to); but seriously, where’s the fish? The soup? The couscous? Some light pasta? Just anything other than heavy meat. It’s all made worse by the fact that he sees any of my attempts to cook my own food as insulting so, unless I go out to eat with friends, I’m stuck. And I’ve probably gained 10 or more pounds in three months.

[Let me be clear: this is not a rant against American food itself; I think our cuisine is vastly underrated. Where else can I get apple pie or barbecue worth speaking of? But the idea that we must be eating meat every single day is whack.]


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